Putting Back the Pieces
by BROEmEaNtToBe
Summary: Chuck swore he would take everything from me. We've had our battles, our wars. We've each gone too far, but this. This was inexcusable, unforgivable by anyone, ever. He wanted to take away everything, until I had nothing. He succeeded. AU Dair
1. Chapter 1

Chuck swore he would take everything from me. We've had our battles, our wars. We've each gone too far, but this. This was inexcusable, unforgivable by anyone, ever. He wanted to take away everything, until I had nothing. He succeeded.

It started with the small things. I rarely ever saw my parents, a few updates on the things I was doing and saying alienated them even further. If you had to choose between spending time "working" or whatever in exotic locales where everything seems like a vacation or coming back to NYC with it's harsh weather and even harsher realities to deal with an unruly child, which would you choose? It's a given. Picking off my fair weather friends and minions was probably even easier for him. No one was all that impressed with my stunt with Eva. Serena moved out, back in with Lily and Rufus. I tried not to think about what we had both said about being sisters. When two people are as self-absorbed as we are, what surprise is there that our friendship didn't last? Kicking me out of school and embarrassing me in front of anyone who had any social influence in anyone's life seemed like the final straw. I became like a ghost, wandering the house, never leaving. What for? There was nothing left for me. Even Darota did not know what to do to help me. But little did I know how much worse it could get.

I've never been the frail, damsel-in-distress type. I know what I want. I know I can get what I want, so I do. This. This was too much. I wasn't leaving the house to go anywhere. No one visited. He knew my lifestyle. Knew no one was going to be there but me.

I lounged lazily on my oversized bed, watching Audrey Hepburn go through her life, taking on her challenges with style and grace. If only I had conducted myself that way, maybe I wouldn't be alienated from everyone I've known. Everyone hated me. Everyone. I was used to _nearly_ everyone hating me, but this... I sighed and tried to push away the self pity. This wasn't helping.

A sharp knock at my door made me jump. Was it Darota? I couldn't imagine who else it could be. I got up from my bed, straightening my satin pajamas, smoothing my hair. No need to look like I was in a total disarray. I opened the door and was immediately taken aback. Fear rose in my chest and I began to back away from the door, although looking back I don't know good I thought this would do. There was nowhere to go. A man with a ski mask on stood in my doorway, wearing all black, holding a sock in one hand. A boot lay on the floor in the hallway behind him, and looking down the mate was still on his foot.

I took all this in, my eyes large with disbelief, fear, confusion. I think I may have whispered a small "Please..." He walked forward with purpose. I tried to flee, I swear I did. Maybe I was in shock, I couldn't move fast enough. I swore I screamed. I did, didn't I? I replay this moment over and over, trying to figure out was there a way I could've escaped? Whatever the answer, he grabbed me, held the sock over my face until everything fades to black.

When I came around, _it was still happening. My head hurt and everything was foggy, I couldn't remember, couldn't focus. I was aware of pain, of small details. His mouth on my breast, the way it sounded as he sucked at my flesh. The way he felt inside me, how much it hurt. The crooked tilt of his mouth, the gleam of his teeth as he got what he wanted and I couldn't seem to form two thoughts to make an action and fight back. The heat of his breath as he whispered in my hear that he wanted to cum inside me but wouldn't. Or was it that he couldn't? And the smell. The awful smell of sex that would likely haunt me for the rest of my life. Why was my head so foggy? It was throbbing. I starting crying, begging him to stop. Tried to push him away. I couldn't, I wasn't strong enough. "Please," I cried. "Stop." He ignored me. Through the haze, I tried to think of other things, prayed this would end soon. He grunted. It seemed like he vanished into thin air, taking his sock and boot with him. _

_I lay there, sobbing. No one was coming to find me. After what felt like hours, maybe days, I sat up. Blood rushed to head and I nearly fell over. I saw I was on the floor. There were bruises on my arms and legs, hickies across my chest, my pelvic area throbbed in pain. I closed my eyes, fighting back another wave of tears, as I began to feel. Feel the shame and guilt, like I was in thousands of tiny pieces that could never go back together. Not in the right order. What do I do now?_


	2. Chapter 2

I cried. My mind was racing, replaying the scene over and over in my mind. What color were his eyes? I couldn't recall, there was a shadow from the mask. They seemed dark. He was Caucasian, I remembered the snow white skin of his bare foot, a stark contrast against the cherry wood of the hall's hardwood flooring. I remembered the way he smelt as he moved over me, like body odor and an expensive type of aftershave that I couldn't seem to remember the name of. He was average height, average build. No accent. He was as nondescript as an Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera. I felt used, cheap, soiled, like he left a mark I would never be able to wash clean.

I cried. I cried until I was dry and there was nothing left. I aimlessly wondered what time it was. The shades were drawn and didn't give any indication of the sun's position in the sky. I forced myself to stand. My muscles ached in protest, stiff from my lack of movement. I shakily made it to my feet and moved towards the bedroom door with hesitation in my step. Should I call the police, an ambulance? Just shower and pretend it never happened? I moved unsurely towards the door.

I was naked and bruised, my head still pounding from whatever he used to knock me out. I put a hand on the doorknob and cautiously opened my door, then stuck my head out to make sure the coast was clear.

I took maybe two steps into the hall when I heard a crash of dishes hitting the hardwood floor of the hallway. I turned towards the sound and saw Dorota standing there with a horrified look on her face, dishes broken in a pile at her feet, food and beverage beginning to puddle, and her hand over her mouth. "Ms. Blair," she questioned before she expertly dashed around the mess at her feet to my side. Her worry and concern brought on a new round of tears. I crumpled in her arms and let her lead me to the bathroom.

The rest is a blur. She asked a million questions, most of which I did not know the answer to before she insisted that we go to the authorities. I cried and shook my head, begging her not to make me go out for fear that someone might see me. Although Gossip Girl had lost interest in my hibernation, I did not want to risk anyone seeing me in my current state.

Dorota seemed to be talking a mile a minute and I nodded or shook my head in response and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Mascara streaks ran down my cheeks, tear stains tinting my snowy complexion a blotchy red. I kept my arms folded tightly over my chest, staring at the bruises from where he had held my arms down, the bite marks that littered the area from my breasts to my neck. I tightly gripped the fluffy robe that Dorota lay on my shoulders, pulling it around me like a blanket. Worst of all was the cut on my forehead, the dried blood that had trickled down from my wound, matting my hair. I must've fought back too hard, although I don't remember it.

I started to get dizzy, wanted to sleep forever, never wake up. I didn't want to think about what had happened here. I felt too weak, too vulnerable. How did this happen? Why me? I wanted to die. This isn't the sort of thing that happens to someone on the Upper East Side, let alone Blair Waldorf.

I became numb, allowed people to lead me wherever they wanted. Dorota stayed protectively at my side. I couldn't tell you when we left, what I was wearing, who was there. Fingers snap in my face, making me jump. I start and look to the sound. A woman police officer is asking me the same questions Dorota did, who is standing at her side providing answers, elaborating on mine when they don't seem sufficient. I'm sitting on an examination table in a hospital and I find comfort in the sterility of it. I'm dressed in cotton slacks and chiffon button down. I don't remember putting it on and I certainly didn't pick it out. "Who did this?" I hear the officer loudly query, probably because I wasn't paying attention. I turned to her, eyes filling with tears. Her voice softened, "Do you know anyone who would want to hurt you?" The tears threatened to spill. I shook my head, closing my eyes tightly, succumbing to the fresh wave of sobs.

**Author's Note:**

Alright, sorry for not introducing Dan for the first 2 chapters, but I promise he will pop up soon. I want to make sure the story is set up properly and that you can tell just how fragile Blair really is. I really appreciate everyone who took the time to review, it meant a lot to me and gave me the motivation to try to pump out this chapter in a timely manner. If you have any thoughts or input, please let me know. I really like feedback, as long as it's constructive.

I also want to add this information. I know this is just a story. I know that not many people read Dair fanfiction, but I feel better knowing that if per chance this does reach someone who needs it, that I provided a place to get support. If you have, or know someone who has been sexually assaulted or abused PLEASE talk to someone, whether it's a counselor, family member, friend or the police. Or call 1-800-656-HOPE (4673) You can also go online to .org/ The Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network (RAINN) is the nation's largest anti-sexual assault organization. You do not have to deal with this alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **I have absolutely no excuse for not updating this sooner, except maybe the content makes it hard to work on when people may pass by me. This will obviously be AU now, considering the changes that have occurred since the episode that inspired me to write this in the first place.

I will never recover from this. This is a reoccurring thought that passes through my mind so many times. Although it been months since the "incident," as I had begun to refer to it with Dorota, I still hurt. Everything physically aches as if it had just happened, but I'm numb. There are no feelings except fear and despair.

If I was a recluse before, this certainly wasn't helping. I mainly sit and stare, in my bed, by my window, in the living room if my mother's not home. Dorota brings me food, which I mostly don't eat, and eyes me with a concerned look, making excuses to my mother when she wonders why I'm not coming out of my room. I know I will eventually have to either tell her what happened or suck it up and pretend nothing is wrong. I'm leaning towards the latter.

I must've had nightmares every night for the first month following. They've since lessened in frequency but not in terror. I wake up in a cold sweat, pajamas and sheets soaked, unable to fall back asleep until Dorota comes in the morning. She sits with me while I sleep.

I'm not doing well. I've lost weight and have become very pale. I hardly sleep and seem to look perpetually exhausted. I don't see anyone, not that anyone really calls. Dorota's having a hard time satiating my mother's curiosity regarding my recent behavior. She tells me as such, trying to be casual, but I see right through her. I agree to escort her to feed ducks at the park with Anastasia, but only because its winter and I can hide behind lots of layers.

This is how I run into Dan Humphrey. I see him before he sees me and I feel a panic rise in my chest instantly. I do not want to see him. He looks well, wearing a fitted pea coat and scarf with fitted jeans. He looks casual and happy. He's alone, but talking on his phone, laughing heartily, I'm sure at something Serena is saying. I feel myself glaring and quickly turn away so he can't feel my eyes watching him. I see Dorota watching him and quickly distance myself from her, in case he should recognize her and come to ask about me. This proves to be pointless because when I turn around to see where he is, he is right behind me.

He looks surprised, but not unpleasantly so, and at a loss for words. He has a half smile I know probably wants to be a full smile as he tries to decide what to say. He's taking the sight of me in, but when he reaches my eyes, the smile is gone and concern is clear on his face. The first words anyone other than Dorota has said to me in nine months are, "Where have you been?"

I don't know how to answer that. I should've prepared something. The uncertainty and fear that I am sure is evident on my face will prevent any scathing remark I may have quickly whipped up from having an effect on Dan. He knows me too well, despite our limited acquaintance.

I realize I still haven't said anything, my mouth hanging open, eyes looking over his right shoulder trying to summon a reasonable response. And then he asks the question that breaks me. "Are you okay?"

My eyes will dart to his and then well with tears as I look down at the space between us. There's no recovering this situation now. I am not the Blair he knows, or the Blair I know for that matter. I am a stranger in my broken body.

I see his arms come up from his side like he wants to comfort me and I swiftly take a step back to prevent contact. This stuns him. "Do you want to talk about it? Maybe get a cup of coffee?" he asks just before Dorota comes to my side, giving the excuses that are too late now. What a spectacle this must seem to Dan. I seem to have lost my mind, crying in the park and my housekeeper is practically beating him away from me.

Maybe I'm just really lonely. I'm not sure what excuse can be given for my next action, but before Dorota can dissuade his concern, I say, "Yes." Dorota looks at me as if I've grown a second head and Dan gives me a small smile. I walk past him and away from Dorota, trying to give her my best reassuring smile.

We walk in silence to the nearest acceptable coffee shop where Dan instructs me to find a table and he waits in line to order our coffee. Once he has returned, he sits and stares at me through the steam from our cups. I fidget nervously before finally making eye contact. "I can't talk about it," I start. He has no reaction to this declaration, just nods his head and continues to wait. I shift under his unwavering gaze, take an avid interest in the floor. When I realize he has no intention of letting up, I turn my head in his direction but don't make eye contact. "Why were you so excited to see me?" I ask his hairline and shirt collar.

"I was worried you were dead," he says simply.

"I wish I was," I mutter under my breath.

"I won't make you talk about anything you're uncomfortable with, but you can't expect to say things like that without making me more curious."

I bite my lip and look him in the eyes. "That's fair."

"You seem tired."

_You have no idea_, I think. I nod instead. This is awkward, but then again Dan was always awkward.

"Do you want to see a movie? _The Woman With the 5 Elephants_ is playing at Film Forum. My treat."

"We haven't finished our coffee," I point out dully.

"We could get it to go," he offers hopefully.

It's at this point I notice my heart is racing. I'm unable to make eye contact again. The thought of being in the dark, where anyone could just touch me… I can't breathe. I feel the tears prick the back of my eyes. I don't think I'm scared of Dan, but he is a man. A fairly attractive man, showing me attention that I'm not sure I want. I find myself shaking my head and moving towards the exit. I'm outside in the cold and it feels good to gulp giant breaths of the cold and hold it in my lungs. I've walked a couple blocks when I hear Dan shouting my name. The tears have come now and I'm more embarrassed than anything else. He's going to think I've lost my mind. Maybe I have.

He finally reaches me, gasping for breath, holding out our coffees in to-go cups and my coat and purse to me. I take all four items and he puts his hands on his knees, trying to regain a normal breathing pattern. "My interest is officially piqued," he says. "You are clearly not yourself."

"I wasn't trying to pique your interest, I, I," I'm at a loss for words. The tears are threatening to spill again and I wish so much I could just disappear from this situation. I close my eyes tightly willing the tears to go away and trying to pretend I wasn't standing on a busy sidewalk holding two coffees with my coat draped over an arm. This can't possibly be my life.

"Hey," I hear Dan's soft voice say, "I meant what I said earlier. I won't make you talk about anything you're uncomfortable with. I'm just always going to want to know. And also you ran away from me back there."

I opened my eyes and saw a slight smile twisting his lips. I couldn't help but give him a small wince of a smile in return. "That's better!" Dan said excitedly. "I'll get a full smile out of you yet. So no movie. That's fine. Um, do you want to go back to the park? Ice skating? Hell, we can even do all the cheesy touristy things we've never done because, well, we live in New York." His hopeful smile was back.

I agree to ice skating because I can be around other people and but get away quickly if I suddenly need to be alone. Dan chatters mindlessly the whole way there about anything and everything and although I'm not really paying attention, I smile weakly and nod, because honestly it's nice to have someone new around. People passing us on the street probably think we're friends, and for some reason this thought warms my heart just a tiny bit.

We arrive at the rink and Dan pays for the skate rental and patiently waits as I lace up. He laughs at his ungraceful stumbling about and is always careful not to grab me when he falls. After about a dozen or so falls, I grab his elbow with some annoyance and show him some techniques to stay on his feet at least.

He's appreciative and pleasant and I feel that I might be going back to normal. All I need is his easy smile and warm laugh. We loop lazily about the rink several times, dodging children before I start to shiver. Dan notices quickly and suggests we get a hot chocolate at a nearby café. We skate to the exit and sit to unlace our skates. Dan goes to return them and get our shoes when I get the eerie feeling that I'm being watched. I try to shake it off, I'm being paranoid. The afternoon with Dan has made me feel like I'm a normal girl, with normal things to worry about.

But I can't squelch that feeling of nauseated dread in the pit of my stomach. I look around at the other skaters and people milling about. I don't see anyone I know. I try to take a deep breath as irrational panic starts to wash over me.

"Hey, are you okay?" I snap back to attention and there's Dan standing above me, his shoes in one hands, mine in the other. He looks concerned, but bemused and the half smile he gives me feels reassuring for some reason. I smile back, "Yeah, my feet just hurt from those disgusting rental skates. If I have contracted a foot fungus, I'm forwarding the medical bills to you."

He laughs and rolls his eyes before he hands me back my shoes.


End file.
